Early morning showery rain this campervan morning. The oak offers some protection as I sit and ponder. An off white fast greying blanket of cloud overhead and the sound of a myriad droplets falling on leaves above me. Unseen crows calling out across trees and roofs, and the usual menagerie of smaller birds in the background. Once again the smell of damp grass and soil plays with the senses. It’s quite warm despite the rain and it’s fine enough to be able to sit amongst it all and absorb what’s going on. It’s still a shower, but as the noise on the leaves above me grows, gives an indication it’s getting heavier though the oak is doing its work. The sound growing from a light gentle, subtle, hum to a growing rumble. It’s summer rain though, welcome, warm and quite considerate, unlike the pelting of a winter downpour. Summer rain seems so much more reasonable. John O’Donohue writes that rain :
“ Never falls awkwardly or chaotically. It falls always with exquisite dignity of structure and purpose “
It remains relaxing and grounding, feet on earth, the green of the oak, rain in your ears and the smell of damp soil on the air.
“ Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.” Roger Miller.
I like to think of myself as a walker in the rain rather than some one who just gets wet, but I have wet days too and that’s ok.
Monday charges over the horizon and here we are settling into home life. The return to drum circles and what that entails and the suburban routines that dictate the passing of time. Going with those that need to be done and, as I have said before, questioning those that do not. Walking in the rain and not just getting wet feels like a bit of a mantra at the moment to carry forward. Lovely days people.
“ Rain, books and coffee allow us to express ourselves freely.” Shaa Zainol.
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